Mischievous Plans and Honourable Intentions
by Tim Curry's Tits
Summary: ThorxLoki. This fic will build up to a relationship between the two Norse gods in the Marvel universe. It will not go into mature details and will indeed not go into any sorts of those details until further along in the story. This is mainly character build-up to express a sort of portrayal of realism with the emotions of both Thor and Loki directly after the first Avengers Movie.
1. Prologue

**AN:** The prologue is in Loki's perspective and is a bit of a recap of past events. The "he" that Loki refers to is Thor, but he can't bring himself to even think/say his brother's name. He's a very angry little god right now. The rest of the chapters will be in first person and will switch between chapters to Thor or Loki_._

Following chapters will be longer than this one, for this is merely a prologue.

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"Don't look at me like that," _he_ said to me. I was glaring at him with my icy eyes as his doleful gaze lingered on my piteous state. I was basically muzzled and my hands were bound so I could not use my powers as I saw fit to. If only my mouth was free I could escape those disappointed eyes and have my vengeance in due time. I could look at him any such way I wished to, for my eyes were my only weapon against his reproachful presence. Why should I look at him with anything other than anger, hate and pain? He and his companions stole my victory from me.

I was to be a god over Midgard and ruler over the mortals that dwell there with my army enforcing my right to rule. I was not only to rule as a king rules over his people, but with my power I would have ruled as a god over all men. I would have been crowned in glory above even _he_ who now pities me and treats me as a prisoner or war.

I suppose he expects me to be grateful for taking me back to Asgard where I will be judged by what he views as "our" people. His folly lies in his assertion that I am his "brother" primarily and apparently all else I am and all I have done is secondary. Hear me now as I say to you that I am not even his brother and, even further, not even a native of Asgard.

I am Loki—son, betrayer and the death of Laufey, King of the Frost Giants of Jotunheim—former ward of Odin, King of Asgard; once King Loki—regent and protector of Asgard itself—and known by all mortal men as the vengeful trickster and the god of mischief. Called by those that ended my most recent ambitions as Kinslayer, the 'adopted son' and 'puny god'.

My pride may be injured by those petty titles, but they cannot take away what I once was. I shall rise once again to my destiny, though at the moment I have to sort out what that is, exactly.

It still astounds me how my "dear brother" pines after my redemption like a love-sick pup. It is as if he expects that I was somehow misled through no fault of my own. I should take that as an insult rather than a mercy. Should he think so little of me that I would be controlled by others and their own selfish desires? I should think not. So far, I have suffered quite enough from my own selfish desires, but still I am not satisfied.

"Loki, you were trying to impose rule over a free people. You brought war to a peaceful realm. What else was I supposed to do but stop you and bring you home?" he said as he interrupted my thoughts once again. If I could have spoken, I would have ripped his pity to shreds and spat on his good intentions, but I was muzzled and did not even utter a grunt or gesture in response. I could practically feel my cold gaze cutting through his resolve like a hot knife through butter.

He sighed as if he was tired and fed up with dealing with me and escorted me to my own room that I had held at Asgard before I had left in a rather dramatic manner. If I hadn't left when I had, though, I would not have gained the army I needed for the take-over of Midgard. My subsequent plans had failed, but I know that the overall goal for those who helped me has not changed and will not I let that information slip without significant gain on my part. He left me alone, though he let me know that my doors would be guarded and that I wasn't to be unbound until my hearing with Odin. I think he has spent too much time with the mortals of Midgard; he is starting to state the obvious far more often than usual.


	2. Trial of Loki

**AN: **This chapter is in Thor's perspective. The "/" is to note the change in tense in this chapter.

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**TRIAL OF LOKI**

Loki is to be tried today before Odin and all of Asgard for his crimes, though our father had not seen Loki since my brother had let go of me on the Bifrost and spiralled into the spaces beyond. We had both thought him dead, and I grieved for weeks because I thought I could have saved him. Even now at the moment of his trial, I feel like I have not done enough to save him from the judgement of our father. I have done all that I could to ensure that he was treated justly and treated well as a member of the royal family of Asgard, but Loki still resents me. He is still jealous of Odin's favour of me and I can say nothing to change his mind of that.

The throne-room is decorated in rich colours of red, silver and gold, though I note the absence of green from the dress of those gathered—save for Loki himself. The crowd is large, as to be expected of an occasion such as this and those baser citizens at the outskirts of the room heft insults at my brother as he enters in chains and collared like some fierce beast. They have not removed his muzzle and I can still see the healing cuts from his encounter with the Hulk on Midgard as he passes me without a so much as a glance in my direction. I follow the guards through the column parted for my brother and pass the small procession as they stand at the base of the dais leading up to the throne. I take my place at the right of the throne, though a few steps below it.

The crowd hushes slowly as brass instruments sound to signal the entrance of Odin and my mother. My mother leaves his side and takes her place opposite of me on the stairwell, while my father's guards flank him on either side as he stands in the middle of the dais in front of the throne.

/

Odin raised his hands to signal for silence and, once the crowd had settled, Odin's voice boomed through the grand space of the throne-room to address the crowd: "All of you are here to bear witness to this trial. It shall be held justly and judged by myself, Odin the Allfather, King of Asgard and its realm." One of Loki's guards removed the muzzle from him so that Loki could answer Odin during his trial.

My father then addressed my brother: "Loki Laufeyson—"

"I would prefer 'son-of-none' to that title," Loki interrupted rather disrespectfully. His interruption caused uneasy murmurings throughout the crowd, though my mother and I looked to each other in a worried manner. My hand rested on the head of my hammer, Mjolnir, as I shifted and looked back to my father as he frowned in disapproval. The title Loki was suggesting was only worthy of orphans and disowned children.

"Very well," Odin conceded after a moment of thought, and began once again: "Loki, son-of-none, and the god of mischief; you stand accused of war crimes against both Jotunheim and Midgard with prevalent witnesses standing in this room, and the written record of others from other realms also present. How do you plead?"

"I do not plead, _old man_, but instead I merely confess in front of this haughty congregation that has already condemned me that—yes—I am guilty," Loki replied, but his arrogant response gained him naught, and instead Odin's staff rang off the floor and everything in the large room went silent as the grave.

My father's jaw was hardened in rage and I knew that there would be little mercy enough given to my brother now that he diminished himself in front of the Allfather's eyes. My father had hoped to see obedience and humility in my brother, but it seemed that Loki now thought that such things were not worthy of his character any longer. I looked to my father to see if he would reply kindly, but the disappointment and anger in his gaze towards Loki did not make me hope foolishly for such an outcome.

"I will not tolerate your insolent words further, Loki! You will answer plainly or I swear on my honour that I will have your mouth sewn shut and a harsh sentence carried out without another word from you!" came the angered response of Odin, and even Loki pursed his lips and complied because of Odin's wrath. "Am I understood?" he asked firmly, and all Loki could do now was nod as the evidence was brought forth and presented.

Loki was allowed to debate and negotiate through each new claim made against him, but no more did he answer in poor spirit, but plainly and briefly as he could manage. I was brought to speak against him, but made my case for mercy on behalf of my brother, and still he would not look at me. Heimdall, the guardian of the Bifrost gave his account of what had transpired with brutal honesty and Loki's case seemed rather grim. Each of my companions had to speak of Loki, and though they tried to delude my brother's actions and character for my sake, they still could not seem to move the Allfather. My mother gave her account of events and also pleaded for mercy for the man she still considered to be her son, but in the end all judgement was left up to Odin.

Loki was muzzled once more as he was led from the throne room and the crowd dispersed as Odin left with my mother. I remained as the crowd thinned and my companions came to stand beside me to offer consoling words on my behalf. Each of them had known Loki nearly as long as I had and they had hoped as well that my father's heart may be persuaded to a gentler sentence. Loki had not been condemned yet, but we were not fools; we had heard all that was said against him and Loki's behaviour at the beginning of the trial had set the stage for a bad outcome. We would hear the Allfather's decision on the morrow, but until then, all we could do was wait.

The Warriors Three—Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral (the dashing)—along with the Lady Sif stood by me and offered me counsel and condolences, but in the end I left the throne room with the Lady Sif where she tried to console me by other means. Even while I was with her, my thoughts remained on Loki and sleep did not take me that night. With Sif warming my bed, I took up Mjolnir and donned my armour as I went to visit my brother, who I assumed shared my insomnia this night.

As I entered my brother's guarded chambers, I found him standing at his balcony, overlooking Asgard as the realm slept. If he heard me enter, he gave no gesture as of such, and I spoke to inform him of my arrival: "Sleep does not find you easily either, brother?"

Loki glanced back at me before he looked back out to Asgard, so I took a place beside him to look over our glorious home. We stayed in silence a while before Loki gestured towards his muzzle and I carefully removed it so that he may speak with me if he wished. His eyes seemed colder than they had ever been before, even as I held his muzzle, and he did not speak.

It was apparently up to me to say the first words, though with his condemning eyes glaring at me, I felt only the heart to say: "I tried to bring you into good light in our father's eyes—"

"Our father?" he snapped back at me to which I heaved a tired sigh as he turned to face me more fully. "He is only your father, Thor _Odinson_, and there would have been no mercy for me even if you had bewitched his senses or gotten him piss drunk. I have been painted with the black brush of _our_ family ever since we were but babes. Do you seriously think that after all that I have done—all that I have failed to do—that I would be granted any sort of clemency? If so, you are a bigger fool than I imagine you to be."

I stood silent a moment and, though what he was saying was fairly accurate, I couldn't bring myself to accept that he may be given a harsh sentence and taken away from me; potentially never to be seen again. Whatever my brother had done, he was still my brother. I still held hope for his redemption.

He took my silence as a cue to rant further: "Why do you look so hurt, _brother_? Do you not think that I deserve what I am given? I have killed countless people of many races, conspired to take the throne, tried to extend my rule by taking Midgard by force, committed acts of treason, lied to you and others with grave consequence to realms emotional and physical, and yet you still think that I will be granted some sort of small penance? Odin cannot let my crimes vanish, even if he wanted to (which I'm sure he does not). As the Allfather, he must bring justice; if I am not punished, others will seek to bring justice on me, whatever that means for them."

"You have always lied, Loki," I found myself saying, though it felt as if I was watching myself and not quite in my own body. I was troubled by Loki's words, but I was seeking to comfort him, or perhaps lay rest to my own worries. I continued, "And you do deserve punishment, but I do not think that exile or death will solve anything."

I extended my hand to grasp the back of Loki's neck to make me look him in the eyes as I did when we were younger and more amiable, though the gesture made him uncomfortable now. "You do not deserve death, Loki," I said softly, and Loki's eyes seemed more wary and guarded than I had ever seen them before, "I will not let them harm you."

"You would defy Odin?" he asked guardedly, moving to try to get away from me, though my other hand on his shoulder caught him and made him hold gaze with me. He then tried to injure me with words: "You reek of Sif… has your little night-haired slut comforted your tormented soul this night, Thor? You are trying to clear your own conscience! While I stand going most certainly to my death, you're trying to make yourself feel better; selfish, arrogant _boy_!"

I let him go and he stepped back away from me, and I could feel anger start to well up inside me, though I held it barely at bay. "Loki—"

"Did I strike a nerve?" his words bit into me like a viper as he continued to lash out at me, "Odin was wrong about you! You didn't change when you went to Midgard! You came home and stopped me for your own glory! You're still an arrogant, greedy, self-righteous—"

"Enough, Loki!" I commanded as my hand rested on Mjolnir and I took a step towards him, my brows furrowing with anger and hurt. I had been trying to calm him and give him counsel to better prepare us both for the day of judgement ahead, but he was turning this around too quickly to be a fight between us.

"Why? Am I getting to the truth?" he snapped back at me and glanced at my hand on Mjolnir, "So the great and mighty Thor threatens chained prisoners that he claims to bear love for? How honourable are you really, _brother_?"

I caught Loki by the front of his clothing and yanked my slender dark-haired brother towards me, so that our faces were so close that he could feel my anger and restraint burning through my eyes and I could sense his fear. His fear, however, was not of me and I found myself realizing that Loki was trying to push me away from him so that I would not think him weak for dreading his fate. My anger diminished as his tongue found no more clever words in our closeness.

"Loki," I said after a moment of silence between us, and his gaze was not on me, but focused down and away from my eyes, "Loki, look at me." It took a moment for my brother to meet my gaze, and his eyes were unwelcoming as ever to my seeing. "You are my brother, whatever you may say otherwise, I still bear love for you. We may not be blood, but we were brothers once in friendship and love, and I ask that if you have any love for me left, that we can be reconciled. Whatever ill you have done me in the past, I forgive," I said honestly, and Loki tore his eyes from mine once again, "I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to do the same for me."

Another silence passed between us before he said quietly, "leave…" and after my heart sank and resolve broke, he said again, though louder, "Leave, Thor." I let go of him and left him there in his chambers. I left his muzzle tossed onto his bed, for I had not the heart to muzzle him again. I complied with his request and left him alone to his bitter and resentful thoughts.


	3. Reflections on a Flawed Design

**AN:** This chapter is from Loki's perspective, starting off right where Thor left him. For (*) in this chapter see the bottom Author's Note.

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**REFLECTIONS ON A FLAWED DESIGN**

I made him leave. The god of thunder, Prince of Asgard and a warrior of much renown; I made him leave with but a few mumbled words. Those few mumbled words had cut him more deeply than all of my insults before them. It was almost as if I could see his heart twixt in twain as I refused to give him the answer that he most craved; the forgiveness and peace that he wished from me. He had left me without another word and in his foolish emotive state he had apparently forgotten the reason for which I had been muzzled.

My magic flowed freely from my lips and through my fingers as the chains dissolved about my wrists and I was able to massage the ache free from them that the chains had caused in my captivity. I could leave now. Getting out of Asgard would be mere child's play, but where would I go? I knew the plans that had been laid out should I fail my mission to deliver my end of the bargain, and would find no friends of the Chitaurians*. Should I go to Midgard where _the Avengers_ were poised and ready to greet my future arrivals with harsh retaliation and/or suspicion? I even considered Jotunheim for a very brief moment, but—even if the Frost Giants and I were the same species in all technicality—I would certainly not be welcomed by a world that I had attempted to destroy, nor by the peoples whose king I had deceived and killed for mine own ends. All that was left to me, then, was to stay here and face my judgement, or go to some realm that I was not familiar with and—more importantly—a realm that was not familiar with me.

My thoughts had again turned to the ever more puzzling issue of my _dear brother_ and his strange devotion to my salvation. It was his devotion and love for me that gave me reason to stay and bear judgement, though the reasons for such dedication was lacking, at least in my mind. Why would he even still care for me? I had done everything in my power to hurt him and—on a few occasions—even attempt to make an end of his life entirely. Perhaps he merely wished to keep an eye on me for his rag-tag team of so-called 'heroes' back on the realm of Midgard, or perhaps all he sought was a cure to his own melancholy (which I had thrown accusingly at his face to enrage him, but was never fully convinced by that possible conclusion). If my _dear brother_ was actually telling the truth about his feelings towards me, then where did that leave me? What should I do, exactly? I had no plans to foil, no immediate ambitions to which he could interfere and make a mess of, and in that case, why did he still have such an interest in me? Did he truly forgive all that I had done? If that was the case, then why would he? How could he? I had not even begun to think of exempting him from his past misdeeds and who he had been; who he was now; what he was sure to become. I had been so certain of who the god of thunder was that thinking that he had actually changed considerably from the past reality of our lives together was indeed a strange thought.

Did I know Thor? That single questions brought a rush of emotions that I still cannot fully explain. Old admirations, accompanied by doubts and insecurities, flared up within me, as well as an unquenchable rage and jealousy in response, but hidden far down within the recesses of my soul was where I found an emotion so confusing that I thought of nothing better to do with it than to sweep it under the rug for the time being.

I found myself pacing on my balcony and stopped myself of that nervous habit before my hands rested on the railing and I looked out towards Asgard with distain. This had been my home once, but no longer. These had been my people once, but no longer. This had been my family once, but now I knew better. I had never belonged here. Even Laufey had been embarrassed of me and hidden me away far where he thought that I might die and end his dishonour at having a small, weak offspring. Odin thinks that he had saved me, but he had only served to postpone my inevitable demise.

"Perhaps Laufey had been right to expose me, for it would have certainly solved all of Asgard's problems, especially concerning the life of _Thor_," I said, spitting his name out as if it were a vile taste to my palate, "I was the one who put the idea in his head to go to Jotunheim. I was the one who pushed the Allfather into the Odinsleep when Asgard needed him most. I was the one who lied to Thor and everyone close to me just to further my own desires. I alone saw fit to end my birth-world for the good of Asgard and her people and that decision cost me more dearly than I had ever thought possible…"

"Remorse and admission of guilt is good, Loki," answered a voice I didn't recognize, and when I turned around my room had grown dark. "But we both know that this isn't what you want."

"Who is there?" I asked defiantly, but as I walked into the room and lit it with a magical glow from my hands there seemed to be absolutely no one around. For but one moment I thought that I had imagined things, however, my resolve to stick to me instincts held me firm to the belief that I had heard someone else in the room, or at least very close by me.

"Oh, Loki, I am not physically present. My powers do have limits, unlike many of yours…" the voice called to me again, and this time I was almost certain that a woman was talking to me. The flattery was a nice touch, but whoever this was wouldn't get me to trust them so easily over a few sugar-coated words.

"Then how are we speaking?" I asked and paused only for a moment before the answer presented itself to me: "A telepath?"

A small sultry laugh reverberated off my walls to my own ears, though I knew now that the woman's voice was only in my mind. "You are very observant, my god of mischief," she replied, and seemed too amused and giddy for my liking at this point in time.

"You seem to know me a great deal," I responded, walking back onto the balcony and using my magic to conceal myself from Heimdall's ever-watchful gaze so that I might confer with this mysterious woman in private. It would trigger the loyal fool to report to the Allfather, but that did not concern me at this moment, for I was not planning to leave Asgard as of yet. I inquired further, "You know what I want then, my mysterious Mistress? Can you see what my _brother_ does not see when I look out at Asgard?"

"I see it burning, Loki, I see _Ragnarok_," she purred in a deliciously enticing manner that only further heightened my anticipation of hearing that word as if from her own lips. "I see that you cannot do this alone as you assume you can," she added, but was quick to continue, "And I can help you, Loki. There are those of us on Earth—or Midgard, as you call it—that would like nothing more for tragedy to befall 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes'."

This bit of information was very tempting to me and I forced myself to remember that I could not just go to Midgard on a whim and expect that this was not some sort of trick. "And what do you know of _Ragnarok_? The destruction of Asgard and translated literally as the 'Twilight of the Gods' as foretold by legend was only a hushed whisper here. How do you know of it?"

"I've spent a little time in your head after a very interesting dream I had on the day of your defeat here on Earth," she replied as if that was a perfectly valid response to my question.

"Every great man loves to be reminded of his failures," I replied in a sarcastic fashion with a roll of my eyes as my thumb and forefinger rested for a moment on the bridge of my nose in light-hearted dissatisfaction. Talking to another charming being with motives such as mine was a bit refreshing after all my moping about, I must admit.

Her laughter filled the spaces of my mind once again as she replied, "And you _are_ a great man, Loki. I had a dream that was more Josephine* than fancy*, though, and decided that the subject of my prophetic dream should be thus informed." By this point she had gained my attention more aptly and, aroused by my curiosity, began to speak once more, "You will be the one to initiate _Ragnarok_, Loki, you and those you choose to bring close to you. The dream chose only to be specific of your part as leader in this endeavour, and my role as a loyal follower. I choose to listen to my dream, Loki, but how we are to proceed with _Ragnarok _rests all on you."

There was a pause in my own mind as I considered it, but I knew that I did not have enough strength and support behind me to attempt such a thing now. "I shall think on it. For now I trust you to build alliances until such time when I am able to confer with you in person," I replied, though as I ended my doors were thrust open and Odin and Heimdall intruded (along with many guards) on my supposed solitude.

"I'll be waiting," the voice whispered as if in my ear, and her presence was gone from my mind as I dispelled my magic when threatened by Odin's staff.

"What were you doing, Loki?" the Allfather demanded of me.

Seeing as Heimdall was with him, I needed not explain that I had hidden myself from his sight on purpose, for there would be no question to my actions. The only question I needed to answer would be the motivation for the aforementioned actions. "I had no intention of fleeing from punishment, only to see just how quickly one might react to the apparent disappearance of a high priority captive like me. I have to say that you're rather slow in your old age,_ father_," I said with as much smug sincerity as I could muster. I was promptly clapped back in irons and muzzled like a dog before being moved to less comfortable accommodations for the night; the dungeons.

I was told much later that my _dear sweet brother_ had opposed and abhorred the idea of leaving me in such a dismal setting, but I had to admit that it was easier to plot my revenge when sleeping on a cold stone floor rather than on fresh silken sheets.

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I was fairly sore the next day and more than hungry, but I was dragged before Odin and his court once again without any question towards my overall well-being. I took that disregard for my needs as more of a warning of what was to come than anything else that seemed relevant at the time. I will not lie about the fact that, along with my many plans of revenge I conceived last night, I was concerned about the sentence that was to be carried out because of my crimes. All my plans may never grow to fruition because I may end up dead before I carried out any of them, and I may never find the source of that flattering voice in my head that gave me such hope of revenge in the first place. Those thoughts brought my very dismal circumstances to a bit of a melancholic mood for me when I was brought to the conclusion of my trail.

Odin had met with his wife and their son (along with the rest of the Asgardian council) to discuss his verdict and hear any criticisms regarding what he had already decided. It was not too often that Odin changed his mind, and when he did change his mind it was only to inflict a harsher sentence. I did not have my hopes up. I did note that Thor looked rather uneasy and because of that one small factor, I absolutely started to dread that my crimes had actually condoned what was to be called my execution.

"Loki, son-of-none, god of mischief and evil," Odin began after the court had settled into silence, "You proclaimed yourself guilty of all charges against you and so you shall be condemned." The lump in my throat by this point was nigh unbearable as I tried to swallow back my fear. Odin continued, "Your crimes warrant death, but a small act of mercy shall be granted to you at this time. Loki, son-of-none, you shall be sealed away in the Elder tree on the Isle of Silence here within the realm of Asgard until such time when someone sheds a tear for you."

My eyes went wide at the verdict, but the muzzle had not been removed so that I might voice my opinion on the matter. I struggled as the guards dragged me off towards the great gilded long-ships of Asgard to take me across the Narrow Sea to the Isle of Silence. The god of thunder, the Allfather and the all-seeing watchman of the now shattered Bifrost went with me and a contingent of guards to seal me away in the Eldar Tree.

The Isle of Silence was a fierce and nigh uninhabitable place with enchanted plants and landscape that was a veritable death-trap. I had been exiled here once before for horrible behavior, but never left here to rot for an uncountable amount of time. Over half my plans were absolutely ruined if I could not find my way around the enchantment and make my escape. If I did make my escape, my next plan of action would have to be getting off this godsforsaken enchanted isle with everything I was intact. Everything on that isle would be out to get me as soon as I was freed, and I did not think for a second that I would be in good shape to leave directly after getting out of the Elder tree; if I ever got out.

We arrived all too soon and once again I struggled within my bonds until they handed me off the boat into my _dear brother's_ arms. "Easy, Loki," he said to calm me, but I was furious with him and his _father_ for allowing this sentence to pass. I would have spat in his face if not for the muzzle.

I eventually settled down enough to walk without guards bruising my arms with a tight grip on every step and the Allfather even allowed me to walk between him and _his son_ as they cleared the way through the treacherous landscape towards the Elder tree. The god of thunder watched as Odin pushed me towards the tree and painfully trapped me into it. My muffled screams echoed loudly in my own mind until the enchantment was complete and my mind numbed to a dull existence.

Somehow I watched them all go, save for Heimdall who stood guarding the base of the tree. The ever watchful sentry guarded his post diligently. Thor watched me a while, too, as my branches swayed in the breeze as the sunlight fed my aching hunger.

He left me and now here I stand with Heimdall.

I hope it rains. I thirst.

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**AN:** _**Strange terms**_

_Chitaurians_: The alien race Loki commanded in the first Avengers movie.

_Josephine_: "Like Joseph." Biblical reference to Joseph who could interpret dreams because of a Divine gift from the Hebrew God.

_Fancy_: older English terminology referring to the imagination.

**Any more words to add to this list in this chapter, please feel free to Private Message me so I can help other readers understand Loki's complicated thoughts and his _friend's_ weird wording.**


	4. Home is Where the Heart is

**AN:** Thor is actually really strange to write after such an emotional chapter from Loki. Thor's thought processes are a lot more straight-forward and his voice is a bit more direct than Loki's. Hope that I captured him well enough in this chapter! Always open to Reviews if one feels like commenting on my work :)

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**HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS**

I am the Prince of Asgard, now the only heir to the throne, and still I could not dissuade my father from the harsh sentence that had been inflicted upon Loki. I had been told, along with the rest of the court gathered to hear the judgement, what the punishment had been before he had announced it publicly. I had argued against the sentence vehemently, but the response I had roused from my father was not one that I had really been expecting.

He told me: "You have given time enough to grieve for your brother, Thor. His crimes deserve and call for punishment; the weight of this decision has fallen onto my shoulders and I shall bear it just as you must, for Loki's sake. Trapping Loki within the Elder tree will give him time to think on his foul and misguided deeds, and perhaps he may, in time, come to terms with his feelings of abandonment and shame when it comes to our family as a whole. He is filled with rage and hate, Thor, and it will never lessen as long as he stays here in our gilded halls as jealousy bottles up inside of him."

Odin was also quick to warn me against Loki's release and my own feelings of guilt on the matter of his punishment; "You will not release him prematurely with tears of lament, Thor. You are the master of thunder and the elements, and you should hold yourself up as such. You will not give yourself cause to mourn any longer for Loki and will instead depart after the trial to Midgard. Help your friends rebuild what Loki has broken. Spend your days easy and in good spirits to look towards your brother's redemption. Let that Midgardian girl, Jane—that you are so fond of—occupy your time and thoughts to let your sorrows fall away."

As I stood staring up at the branches of the Elder tree where my brother had been locked away, I could not help but feel that perhaps my father was right about everything. This may be good for Loki and I, a little time apart where we can each take some time aside for personal reflection without impeding on the other's frame of mind. I looked to Heimdall with a small sad smile and took comfort in that my request to father had been answered; that Loki should at least have a sort of companion or guardian on the Isle of Silence. Heimdall was well-suited to the task, for though Loki and he could not converse, he stood as an ever-watchful presence for Loki so that my brother could not think that he had merely been abandoned. I heart felt much at ease that naught a horrid thing would happen to Loki while Heimdall watched over him, and decided to take my father's advice to return to Midgard.

I used the power of Mjolnir to return to Midgard while the Tesseract was being safely guarded in Odin's Treasure Room. With the hammer in my hand, I was able to move at the speed at which light travels through space, though it exhausted much of my energy as well as Mjolnir's. I slowed considerably when I reached the realm-threshold (that Jane Foster had once told me that Midgardians called the atmosphere) and made my way towards the metropolis that Loki had laid to near ruin with his army; New York.

As I approached the Tower of Tony Stark (The Man of Iron), I used my power over the elements to conjure a thunderstorm overhead so that I and Mjolnir would be able to recover the energy we had lost in getting to Midgard. The storm served to mark my arrival to my companions who would know what a storm like this did not come merely from the earth and skies, but by my hands. I landed near the top of the tower, next to the place where Loki had been bested by my large unruly companion, the Hulk. Raising Mjolnir in a salute to the skies, lightning crashed down onto the nigh-unbreakable metal and coursed through both my hammer and I to recharge what energy we had lost from Asgard.

Thunder crashed overhead and I met the sky's challenge with mine own throaty bellow and spun Mjolnir high above my head to request another strike. The skies complied with my answer to their call and struck spinning Mjolnir to funnel their power into my hammer—showing subservience to my will. Grinning as I felt my power return to me, I let Mjolnir rest in the holster on my belt and spread my arms in greeting and familiarity to the falling rain as it washed past my face and over my winged helmet. I could feel the comfortable weight of it as the droplets clung and sunk into the fabric of my cloak. I sighed in contentment as the storm began to calm and merely rain to add the water's properties of granting life to all those in this 'New York'.

Once I descended from my high place on the tower, I deigned to go into the building where my friend had dwelled, and as I beheld the tower I noted that much of it had already been repaired. I was glad to know that the Man of Iron had been prosperous since last we'd seen one another. I was greeted by a fairly alarmed young woman who appeared to be washing the floors with a strange flat mop. She spoke to me in a language that seemed foreign to her, and I smiled as I spoke back to her in the Alltongue to assure her that I was an expected arrival for Mr. Stark (the Alltongue reached all mortal's ears as their own native language, and had been quite useful to me in my other visits to other realms as well). She seemed wary of me, but was much more comfortable talking to me in her native tongue and I soon gained her trust enough that she called Stark directly.

Stark and I conversed using a strange enchanted mirror that was hung against the wall at the top of this tower. He caught me up on events here on Midgard and inquired after my 'power-hungry, psychopathic brother' and I assured him that Loki had been punished appropriately and would not interfere on matters of Midgard for what I and Odin, my father, had assumed would be a fairly long time. I did not share with Stark the nature of Loki's punishment, nor did he inquire much further. He wished me only to know that he had kept Loki's horned helmet as a nice little trophy of our victory against the Chitaurians and that the Avengers Initiative was only to be activated if the world needed it, so I was free to visit, help rebuild, or do generally anything that I wished (provided that I did not spill any secrets to those without knowledge of the Initiative). When I asked him where the others were, he told me that he did not have access to that information and that Nick Fury or another member of S.H.I.E.L.D. would probably approach me regarding what I should call myself, for 'Thor, god of thunder' did not particularly seem appropriate if I wished to remain 'under the radar' from the other mortals.

I stayed with Stark for a good while and indeed S.H.I.E.L.D. did find me and inform me that my new identity would be 'Donald Blake' and I would be assigned as a research assistant to Jane Foster while she and a few others continued to explore the phenomenon of space and space travel. I had no qualms with this new identity and was actually rather fond of the idea that I would be working with Jane.

I had not seen Jane on my last venture to Midgard. Even as I thought of seeing Jane and how wonderous that our reunion would be, I could not help myself from thinking back to Loki on the Isle of Solitude and the words of guidance my father had given me. Should I truly let the reunion between Jane and I take president over the plight of my brother? Should I let myself fall away from thoughts of Loki entirely and instead focus on Jane? Mixed feelings of love and sorrow tugged at my heart, but I could not distinguish from which person each emotion was contrived from at the moment. It was a confusing turmoil within the pits of my being, but instead of letting my emotions rule me, I decided that I should go through with the fake identity and spend some time with Jane.

Meeting Jane again brought many emotions forth, but as we embraced I felt more euphoric than depraved with my surge of emotions. He laughed and swung her around with my arms around her waist. Our forehead's touched as I pulled her close and barely noticed the staff that had been working with her out in the desert under the shade of some well-placed green tarps. She blushed and bit her lip before we relaxed to a less intimate embrace in front of the others around us.

"So, I, uh, heard you've been busy," she said with a grin that betrayed her joy adverse to the calm tone in her voice.

"My brother had been busy," I corrected lightly, but knew that these others were strangers to me, so I would say nothing that would betray my true identity to them. I continued, "I visited him in New York…" I paused for just a moment and my tone softened as I brushed a stray hair away from her cheek, "'Was away for longer than expected. I'm sorry, Jane."

"I'm just glad you're here."

She continued to smile at me before she took me aside to do some paper-work and get comfortable with addressing me by my new name. Jane resolved to calling me "Don" instead of "Donald." I appreciated the short nickname for convenience as well as the shortened form was much less awkward for me to say. "Donald" was not a common name in Asgard and sounded foreign coming off of my tongue.

We spoke of many things while she filled out most of the papers that were required to be done for one hired onto a new enterprise. She talked of how her life had progressed since I had left to stop Loki in Asgard and I spoke of why I had not been able to come back; how the Rainbow Bridge had been destroyed by my hand to stop the destruction of Jotunheim. I told her much of what transpired in New York, though I left out some just for the sake of time.

After we had caught up on the big events, I was introduced to those I would be working with before we had a humble dinner and conversed. A few people drove to the nearest town to lodge for the night while the rest of us slept in tents or lodgings on wheels that I had encountered on my last visit—trailers. Jane, I and a couple of others stayed up late into the night and watched the stars overhead while sitting next to a warm fire-pit that had been dug into the desert ground.

As my eyes scanned the cosmos I wondered how my brother faired; my heart grew heavy at the thought.


	5. The Storm

**AN:** Loki's/Elder Tree's perspective. They're a bit inseparable at the moment.

* * *

**THE STORM**

I wake to warmth.

The sunlight runs red across the sky as I view it without seeing. I feel the colour through my leaves as they reach to the heavens to absorb the sun's gentle caresses. I am nourished and nurtured by this warm embracing light. The light has no reason to nurture me; it simply does. The sun has no obligation to aid my existence, but simply supports the life within me. I can find no concrete reason for this kind of relationship between the sun and I. I have never before experienced this sort of selflessness—even if the sun is not a sentient being.

Thor was obligated to look after me because I was (in his own mind) part of his family. Odin raised me for his own purposes: on the premise that I should somehow promote peace between Asgard and Jotunheim. He sought to gain from me. The Frost Giants also sought to gain from the deal I struck between myself and their King, though they had no allusions to my own true reasons for our agreement. The Chitaurians wanted the Tesseract in exchange for aid to my cause. Even I, personally, have never engaged in a relationship from which I could not profit.

What provides merit for such relationship where only one party profits with no benefit to the other? Why would anyone engage in anything that did not profit them somehow? There are always ulterior motives hidden behind good intentions. If there is no plan to benefit oneself, then why partake in such a selfless endeavour in the first place? Why is selflessness such an honourable quality? Perhaps because selflessness in and of itself was so rare. I had never reflected on these things quite so in depth before, though I suppose that I've never had such a long while to think on such trivial things.

A soft morning breeze moves through my thin leaves, but even in this peaceful dawn I feel my deep rage and resentment for my imprisonment gnaw at my insides like some hungry insect. The calm induced by the life-force of the tree has lessened my ability to handle my emotions in such a high concentration, but even now I can feel my deep underlying anger towards Odin.

The passage of time has seemed ever constant for me, for the days come and go without recognition because of their frequency and dullness. My mind asserts that this dawn must be the first, though my mind asserts this every time dawn unfurls her rosy fingers across the sky. The Elder Tree only counts the rain for passages of time and it has not rained one single drop since the time of my imprisonment. That single fact is the only thing of which I can be completely sure regarding the passage of however long it has been. My leaves are becoming brittle and my throat feels eternally parched. The earth beneath me is dry and so my thoughts have turned sour.

Heimdall stands ever vigilant.

Rainless days continue to pass.

Clouds.

Clouds approach over the horizon. I feel the jubilation of the Elder Tree upon this observation and it eagerly anticipates rain. As thunder sounds in the distance, the tree starts to feel my apprehension. I have no love for thunder or what comes with it.

My boughs reach towards the darkening sky the storm steadily approaches. Lightning strikes the Isle nearby and brightens the sky in a blinding light. The clouds are creeping over me and the wind starts to howl in my ears. Wind starts to tear at my brittle leaves and starts to rip them away from my branches. The gusts bend my limbs uncomfortably, but the tree lets the wind toss it around because of the anticipation that it has for the coming rain. I can hear rainfall over the ocean waters coming fast towards me.

The roar and wrath of the storm shakes my body before a slow shower of cold rain cuts through my worried mind and immediately starts to lull me. The harshness of the storm ebbs away from my thoughts and my senses as I feel my roots take in the most precious ingredient of life to nourish my thirst. My body rocks in the storm, but I have long given over control of my limbs to the strong winds and my mind begins the slow lull into a dreamless sleep.

PAIN.

Blinding, horrendous, soul-shattering pain awakens my senses abruptly. I cry to the heavens without voice as the thunder booms overhead in a mighty and overwhelming roar. My life-blood gushes down my charred side and I see—without seeing—that my limb has been severed and is falling away from me. The wild power that struck me from the skies is no longer with me, but I feel its bite, still. My wound weeps as a harsh throbbing pain courses through my entire being. Fire laps at my open wound before I feel the rain beating mercilessly at the raging flames. Thunder and lightning surrounds me on all sides as the wind feeds the flames.

Heimdall does nothing. Still as a stone, he stands. I burn as he watches.

The storm passes over me after what felt like eternity with the flames eating away at me. Light rain remains to soothe my burn and slowly kills the fire that injures me so horribly. The water from the earth nourishes my thirst and the pain starts to lessen. It is dark, but the wind begins to still and leave me be.

I wake once more as the light touches the leaves I have left.

Heimdall stands ever vigilant, never blinking.

Pain once again gnaws at me as my exposed weeping wound is fed upon by ants and other small insects. They itch and burn worse than the fire that came before them. I cannot move to shake them off, only stand and feel as they dig further into my flesh.

A bird drills into my flesh to get at the insects inside and I feel my resolve and peace falter to once again feed into the anger of my imprisonment. Must I suffer? Must I bear these stinging pains for an eternity? The tree is resolved that all things shall pass, but all I can feel is my anger. All I live in is pain.

Heimdall stands, never blinking. There I shall finally find my freedom.

I use all the strength of my past life that I still have left in me and surge it through the Elder tree to but one small leaf. I watch, without seeing, as the leaf falls slowly through the air towards Heimdall. He does not falter and is ever vigilant. The leaf cuts through the white of Heimdall's right eye. He stands, never blinking. A tear forms in the corner of his eye.

Heimdall stands ever vigilant as a tear creeps down his face; shed because of me; for my sake.

Water presses against me as the Elder Tree and I cease to be one. I am engulfed in water and darkness. I cannot breathe. As my lungs are about to burst, light and the ground greets me. I cough up water as I finally see the world with my own eyes once again. I feel the wet ground beneath me and look up to see the Elder tree's bark closing from where it had birthed me. I am bare and wet, but I am free at last.

Heimdall is no longer still and comes at me with the claymore he wields. "Loki, you have escaped through guile, return or I am charged to make you," he calls to me in challenge as the sword lowers to my bare neck. His golden gaze never leaves me and his voice was filled with all of the authority of Odin. I hate Odin.

The muzzle that was set upon my during my trial has now been freed from me by some magic of the Elder Tree and I am able to use my magic freely. If not for the storm I would not have been energized enough to work my magic, but now, even bare as I am, I am able to fight back. "You shall not deny me my freedom, Gatekeeper," I respond, and am fairly surprised that my voice does not falter after so much time gone by without using it.

I strike at him with energy from my left hand and he flies backward. I stand and brush my wet hair back with my hands. He rushes at me with a battle-cry, but I feign left and create multiples of me. The problem with Heimdall is that he can see through my illusions, but that moment of hesitation on his part was enough time for me to sneak in behind him and flip his golden helm off his head. He is now exposed to the best of my spells: hypnosis.

Heimdall falls, closing his all-seeing eyes as he sleeps.

I heft the Odinsword in my left hand before I grip the claymore in my hands and bring it down upon the sleeping watchman's neck. I am clothed with nothing more than blood, but the sword grows heavy in my hand and I let it slip down to the ground to rest eternally alongside its keeper.

I am free.

What shall I do with my freedom?


End file.
